


past one hundred thousand miles

by garafthel (sister_wolf)



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, mostly gen but chapter 4 is F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/garafthel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to put my short Guardians of the Galaxy fics. Pairings (if any) and any warnings will be in the chapter titles.</p><p>1. Gamora has a question about the mixtape. (Gamora & Peter)<br/>2. Rocket has a kinda embarrassing request. (Rocket & Drax)<br/>3. Peter and Drax have a conversation about what Drax called Gamora and Peter learns about alien cultures. Also, Gamora probably knows the secrets of the universe. (Peter & Drax, Peter & Gamora)<br/>4. Drax is oddly cuddly for a maniac and Gamora is <em>not helping</em>. (Drax/Gamora/Peter)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the stars look very different today (Peter Quill & Gamora, gen)

"Quill, there has been something troubling me of late."

Peter had been hanging out in the area they use as a rec room of sorts, listening to the new mix tape. Gamora sits down beside him and pins him in place with one of her looks.

_Aw shit_ , he thinks, and turns down the volume. From his experience to date, any time Gamora is troubled about something there's a good chance that running for their lives is in the near future. "What's up? Please tell me we're not gonna die. I just got the pilot's seat adjusted the way I like it."

"The Awesome Mix Volume One." There is absolutely no doubt in his mind that she capitalized those letters as she spoke. "The storage medium used to preserve the sound appeared to have been a primitive form of magnetic tape."

"Uh, yeah, it was a cassette tape." He's still angry about losing that tape. Fucking Ronan the Accuser would have a lot to answer for...if he hadn't been blown into subatomic particles, that is.

"Magnetic tape of that quality could not have withstood twenty-six years of steady use." She looks at him expectantly, as if there was a question in that sentence somewhere.

He's getting used to Gamora's sideways conversations though, just like she knows to ignore fifty percent of the bullshit that comes out of his mouth. It's almost like they're becoming friends.

And yeah, they all declared their friendship back when it looked like they were all gonna die, but there's a difference between "I would take a bullet for you" friendship and "I care about what's going on in your head" friendship. He guesses there is, anyway, not having had a whole lot of experience with option number two. Or even option number one, really.

Peter takes a deep breath and prepares to lie through his teeth--and then ends up telling the truth anyway. Dammit. He's still not used to this weird urge to tell someone the truth instead of deflecting. It's disturbing.

"My first big score, the first one where I got to keep most of the money--because I lied to Yondu about the take--anyway, I found a guy who collects Terran stuff. He was able to take the recording from the mixtape and I dunno, remaster it I guess you'd call it, and put it on some kind of tape that wouldn't wear out. So it wasn't exactly my mom's mixtape--I mean, for one thing there's no way you could recreate that annoying DJ talking over the end of Moonage Daydream--but it was. It was something, you know?" He sighs and thunks his head back against the bulkhead behind them. "A connection."

"A way to remember. I understand." And if anyone else could truly understand what it was like to be torn away from everyone they loved and everything they ever knew, he guesses it would be her. 

"Yeah."

He's surprised to feel her delicate fingers curling around his big clumsy digits. She doesn't ask anything of him, just sits next to him holding his hand while they listen to the next song and--and it's good, just to be here with a friend. It's really, really good.


	2. my spaceship knows which way to go (Drax and Rocket, gen)

"So that, uh, that head-scritching thing you did...that wasn't because you think I'm an animal, was it? Cause if it was then I got words for you, and by words I mean a couple of explosive rounds to the face."

Drax frowns for a moment and then looks enlightened. "That was a metaphor."

Rocket smacks himself in the forehead with a paw. "Ugh, why do I even try talking sense to this guy?" he demands of the Groot-twig sitting in a pot next to Drax. The twig doesn't have an answer for him but it doesn't matter, he can pretty much hear the response in his head. _I am Groot_ , the big dope would have said.

"Because we are friends."

"Oh. Right. That."

"It is because we are friends that I rubbed your head when you were upset. On my planet, if you care about someone, then you show that with comfort-touch. It is our way among friends and family."

That's an awfully touchy-feely sentiment coming from a guy capable of ripping opponents apart with his bare hands, who is currently sharpening a knife longer than Rocket's entire body. But Drax looks pleased and contented with his explanation. One thing Rocket has learned about him by now is that the guy is completely incapable of not telling one hundred percent the truth at all times.

"So if I was to ask for..." Rocket looks around and lowers his voice. "Scritches. If I was to ask for head-scritches. You'd give them to me? No questions asked?"

Beaming, Drax puts the knife and honing stone away. "Friend Rocket, I would be honored."

Rocket hops up on the bench beside him. "One thing I gotta warn you about first though," he says with his most menacing snarl. "I got a reputation to keep up. If you tell anyone about this I will kill you. That's not a metaphor."

"Understood."

Rocket wriggles around for a second, getting settled, and then freezes as Drax's fingers start gently scritching his headfur. It feels like...Okay so, there was this one scientist at the lab who was always nice to him. She was the one who called him "Rocket" instead of his subject designation, like he was a person or something. She used to sit with him and scritch his fur after the procedures when he felt like dying would be a nice escape from the pain. It kinda feels like that did.

Rocket opens his eyes and finds that the Groot-twig is smiling at him, just as stupidly cheerful as the full-sized version. Rocket scowls at him. "You shut up."

The Groot-twig looks even more cheerful, if that's possible. Stupid tree.


	3. here am I floating 'round my tin can (Peter & Drax, Peter & Gamora)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The word "whore" and its meaning and use as an insult is discussed and the word itself is used several times. 
> 
> I did not originate this headcanon for Drax's use of the word "whore" in referring to Gamora, but so far it's my favorite explanation for a line that seemed bizarrely out of character for him. The details about Drax's religion and culture are 100% made up by me and probably violate comics canon in a major way.

"Now that we are united in our quest to kill Thanos--"

"We are? Cause I don't think we've held a vote on that or anything."

Drax just steamrolls over him. "I wish to make peace with Gamora if we are to be brothers-in-arms in the fight against Thanos. So far she has rebuffed my attempts at making peace. So I have come to you, friend Quill, for advice in the matter."

"Why me?" Peter isn't sure if he's demanding an explanation from Drax or the universe in general.

"Rocket informed me that you are an expert on how to speak to females."

"Let me guess. There was some hysterical laughter before he gave you that answer, right?" 

Drax nods and looks expectant, as if Peter is about to lay the wisdom of the ages down on him.

Peter sighs. How is this his life? "Okay, let me spell it out for you as simply as possible. You need to apologize to Gamora for calling her a whore."

He remembers coming home with a fat lip and the beginnings of an impressive shiner. His mama had taken one look at him and pulled the bag of frozen peas and the ice cream out of the freezer. The peas were for his eye; the ice cream was because his mama was the best.

She waited until they were down to scraping their bowls for the last little bit of mint chocolate chip before asking, "Baby, you want to tell me what happened?"

"No." He scowled down at the scratched surface of the Formica table.

One of the older boys had heard his parents talking about "that Quill girl" and had picked up a few choice words to repeat that afternoon at recess. The Principal made Peter apologize for hitting the other boy but he wasn't sorry. The only thing he regretted is that the teachers pulled him off before he could make the other boy take it back.

"Peter."

"I can't tell you."

"Come on, baby. You can tell me. What happened?"

"No, I can't! So stop asking." To his horror, Peter could feel the tears starting to spill down his cheeks.

"Oh, sweetie." She held out her arms and he flung himself into them, clinging to her fiercely as he cried. She smelled like sugar cookies from her job at the bakery and faintly of lavender soap, and Peter would never, ever tell her that the reason he got into so many fights is that he couldn't let them get away with calling his mama a whore.

Twenty-six years later, Peter sits at the con of his very own spaceship and watches as a guy so dangerous that his nickname is "the Destroyer" tries to wrap his brain around the idea that it's bad to call someone that.

"But...she is a whore, is she not? The other prisoners addressed her by that title."

"No! She's not a--look, Gamora is an assassin. And maybe a thief, but not as big a thief as me and Rocket. Anyway, those guys were about to shank her, you can't listen to anything they said."

Drax ignores most of what Peter says, as usual. The guy makes being single-minded into an art. "A whore working as an assassin is hardly unusual."

Peter opens and closes his mouth a few times, totally confused by Drax-logic once more. "What?"

"All whores are trained in multiple forms of martial arts on my planet. If the path of sexual enlightenment does not appeal to them, they find work as assassins."

Peter squints at him. "None of that made a lick of sense. Okay, let's make sure we're talking about the same thing. Explain to me what a whore is on your planet."

"They are the priests and priestesses of the Night Goddess, sacred initiates in her divine mysteries of life, sex, and death. They honor her by bringing death to those who deserve it and sharing sexual enlightenment with the devout."

"Oooooookay. Yeah, I think I've discovered the root of the problem. Drax, in most of the galaxy the word "whore" is an insulting term for people who have sex for money."

"There is a customary donation made to the Temple for their spiritual guidance."

"Not quite the same thing, buddy. Okay, here's the deal: never, ever use that word, even if you're actually talking about someone who has sex for money. It's a nasty, degrading word. Second of all, Gamora isn't a...sex priestess of the Night Goddess or whatever. The other prisoners were just calling her that as an insult."

Drax frowns. "I do not understand how it is that sharing the mysteries of the Night Goddess with the devout could be seen as anything less than holy work, but I will accept your explanation. I see that I must make amends to Gamora for my unintentional insult. Thank you, Quill."

"Any time." 

Drax nods and disappears further into the ship.

"Well, I think I managed to not completely fuck that up," Peter says to the empty cabin.

"I think you handled that fairly well, actually."

He's really not surprised to see Gamora emerging from a shadowy corner. The only person he knows who's better at sneaking around than her is Rocket, who has the natural advantage of being raccoon-sized. "Eavesdropping?" 

"Of course." She drapes herself across the other seat, lounging effortlessly in a way that makes his mouth go dry. Peter is pretty much certain that nothing is ever gonna happen with them, but there's no harm in looking.

"You gonna forgive him? It sounds like he thought you were some kind of holy assassin slash sex priestess. I honestly don't think that Drax intended to insult you by calling you...that."

"A whore?" She laughs, but Peter doesn't think she actually finds it funny. "I've been called much, much worse. But I do prefer it when the insults are accurate. Murderer, for example."

He has no idea what to say to that and for once he's able to keep himself from blabbering in the face of awkwardness. "You had no choice," is all he says.

Gamora makes a thoughtful noise, tilting her face so that her hair obscures her expression. "I try to tell myself that but I'm not entirely sure if it's true. Or if I'm just lying to myself."

"You were just a kid." 

"Haven't been a kid for a while, have I? Anyway." She's smiling again, but Peter's starting to be able to tell with her when it's not a real smile, and this one definitely is not. "I'll let Drax stew for a while before I forgive him. It'll be good for him. And very amusing for me."

"That's what you find amusing? I'm kinda scared to find out what else you think is funny."

She smiles slowly, in that way of hers that makes her look like she knows the secrets of the galaxy. "Maybe you should be," is all she says before walking away with a sway to her hips that says she knows Peter is watching.

Peter sags into his chair and heaves a giant sigh. _Damn._ Just, damn.


	4. far above the world (Drax/Gamora/Peter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drax is oddly cuddly for a maniac and Gamora is _not helping_. (Drax/Gamora/Peter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to a few things from chapter 3, so not entirely stand-alone. Warnings for alcohol abuse and Drax's casual attitude towards murder. Also, since the movie threw Drax's comics canon backstory out the window, I'm taking this as an opportunity to make up his backstory whole cloth.

In hindsight, the whole thing was Peter's fault. ("As are most things," Gamora observes. Peter tries not to pout but the amused snort coming from Drax's direction tells him that he failed.)

It's not like he did it deliberately. It's just somehow things like this just _happen_ to him. Okay, so never something exactly like this. But you get the point.

After the whole saving-the-galaxy thing, the Guardians (Peter still thinks that's an awesome name, shut up) got into a little trouble, a little bad/a little good, and ended up sort of semi-accidentally freeing an entire planet of peaceful farmers from slavers. In gratitude, the planet threw them a celebration. A three-day-long celebration with as much food and booze as they can handle. Farmers, man--who knew they could party like that?

So Peter is pretty well on his way to shit-faced when he finds Drax and Gamora sitting on the alien grass a little ways back from the biggest bonfire (which is pretty fucking big, since the people on this planet apparently don't do anything by halves.) Rocket and Groot are staying well away from the fire because despite being damned near indestructible, Groot has an understandable dislike of open flames. Last time Peter saw them, Rocket was fleecing the locals at cards and Groot had gathered an adoring throng of small children.

Drax and Gamora are sitting next to each other and drinking companionably, which is something that Peter couldn't even have imagined a month ago. But Drax had manned up and apologized to Gamora for calling her what he did, and between that and the experience of being imprisoned together in a small cell for a few days (the Guardians freeing the planet hadn't exactly gone off without a hitch) they seemed to finally have made their peace with each other. 

Peter sits down on the grass between them with a thump because his balance is just a teeny-tiny bit off. "Hey guys. Staying out of trouble?"

There's not a whole lot of space between them, so he can feel Drax's massive upper arm shift as he shrugs. "I do not have any active warrants in this quadrant of space."

The thing about Drax is, he's not dumb. Drax is actually pretty smart, he's just completely literal and straightforward. If Peter explained that "staying out of trouble" was just a bit of slang, just a thing people say to pass the time, Drax would understand what he was saying but tell him that it was foolish to say things that don't mean anything.

Gamora chuckles, a sound that is unusual enough that it's all that Peter can do to keep himself from staring. "Just give us a few months and I'm sure we'll fix that."

Peter uncorks the bottle of incredibly potent apple-flavored booze which is apparently their hosts' main export and takes a swallow. Coughing a little from the burn, he says, "To the Guardians of the Galaxy."

Gamora snags the bottle out of Peter's hand and takes a healthy swig. "To the Guardians. May we avoid our inevitable fates for as long as possible."

Drax lifts his own bottle of apple-flavored hooch. "May our enemies die screaming in pools of their own blood and bodily fluids."

"Right, absolutely." Peter grew up among space pirates with an unhealthy interest in cannibalism but the casual way Drax says stuff like that is a little disturbing even to him. Cultural difference, he reminds himself. After all, Drax's people revere a goddess with sex priestesses who moonlight as sacred assassins. Technically, murder is part of his religion.

Still, Peter is damned glad that Drax is on _their_ side.

They drink for a while in silence and Peter finds himself listing a little to the side. Drax's upper arm is huge and firm, and he doesn't appear to be at all bothered by Peter leaning on him. After a while, he feels Gamora leaning against his other side gingerly, like a stray cat who wants affection but doesn't trust people not to be dicks about it. Peter freezes in surprise and feels her start to pull away. He forces himself to relax and doesn't say anything, waiting to see what she'll do. After a while the weight of her leaning against him returns. And if Peter smiles like a giant dork, hopefully the lighting is too bad for anyone to see it.

They keep drinking, passing the bottle back and forth. As the night wears on the alcohol erodes their usual boundaries. Drax lies down on the grass and Peter uses him as a convenient backrest. Gamora slides down to rest her head on Peter's chest and doesn't object when he puts his arms around her. Drax has one massive arm slung around both of them and Peter would be hard-pressed to call what they're doing anything but cuddling

One of the worst-kept secrets of Peter Quill, Star-Lord, former Ravager and current leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy, is that when he's drunk he gets maudlin--and worse, he loses what little internal filter he normally has.

"I love you guys, you know that?" Peter blinks tears out of his eyes, staring up at the alien constellations. One of them looks kinda like a dick. He gets sidetracked on that for a while, thinking about fake Latin names for dick constellations, before he remembers what he was saying. "I love all of you guys, but I love Rocket and Groot in a different way, you know? They're awesome but I have no desire to fuck them. But you two... man. Yes, please, and twice on Sundays."

There's a pause that Peter might find ominous if his higher brain functions weren't currently occupied by trying to figure out whether he can make any more fun shapes out of the alien stars. There's a constellation that looks kind of like the Milano. Best ship in the galaxy, he thinks, drunkenly toasting the stars and managing to spill apple moonshine all over himself and Gamora in the process. "Whoops."

"You are actually the biggest idiot in the universe, you know that?" she mutters, using the hem of his shirt to wipe booze off her face.

"'s just a little moonshine, geez, Gamora. Chill out."

"That's not what I was referring to."

"Peter Quill and Gamora," Drax says, sounding weirdly formal. "Since the death of my beloved Yvet and our little girl Hethra, my life has been entirely dedicated to seeking vengeance against their murderer. Belonging to the Guardians has allowed me to consider a future beyond seeking vengeance and dying in honorable battle. I never expected to find two people who I would consider as potential spouses, but I believe that Yvet would approve of my choice. 

"I accept your offer of courtship."

The bottle slips out of Peter's hand. Gamora catches it and puts it down gently on the ground, not spilling a drop. The part of Peter's brain that's not spinning around in circles like a hamster on a wheel is grateful for that, because he's pretty sure he's not drunk enough for this.

" _Courtship_?"

"I told you that you were an idiot."

"That's not helping, Gamora."

Peter grabs for the bottle again and Gamora hands it to him without even looking. Drax makes a contented noise and tightens his arm around both of them. It's actually really--weirdly--nice.

Peter makes a conscious decision to worry about the fact that he apparently just got accidentally engaged to an assassin and a maniac _later_.


End file.
